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jane
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i miss the daydreaming.
we spent two years making up imaginary worlds for ourselves. we were trapped withing four flowered walls, smoke clinging to the wallpaper vines, air conditioning always too cold. fucking to stay warm, to feel validated, to not be so alone in the world. we questioned ourselves all the time. this was too good to be true. there's no way this is really happening. even stupid television seems magical to smitten lovers. it's like we just jumped on the train and were waiting for it to derail, wherever and whenever that was. there was almost never a future. there was only those moments. we laughed until our bellies ached and the cheap beer churned itself up into belches. we would kiss again, and roll over, and sigh. and it was never enough. empty with such fullness. full with such emptiness.
we'd venture out and hold hands sometimes. it was nice to be attached to someone, like twins separated at birth - a sense of completion.
the sickness came slowly. nobody was ever healthy, really - but that was part of living in the moment. we snorted the worries up our noses and down our gullets in a quasi-reality. it was like time_travel.
funny how something like that can tear people apart. running into the requirements and responsibilities like crashing through brick walls. not believing there's another one ahead - how could there be? can't this be our last obstacle? why isn't anyone on our side but us?
now all my daydreams are one-sided. i'm wandering through this forest by myself. yes, there are fireflies, and yes, this isn't uncharted territory, but it feels that way being so alone. and it's not like you can just call out for help here. people are so full of their own egos. full with such emptiness.
maybe it's better for me, to design my world on my own. knowing i'll never return to our flowery fraudulence. not that it wasn't real, but that it no longer exists. anything else is cinematic. you can't force something to be there.
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